


Stories From The Front

by GGMoonyCrisco



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Angst and Feels, Brotherhood of Steel (Fallout), Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Danse is a Gentleman, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Good for her, Humor, I Humbly Propose This Ship, Loss of Virginity, Mild Smut, Mystery, Piper the Incorrigible Smartass, Pre-Blind Betrayal, Shamelessly Ogling Danse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:22:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28866951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GGMoonyCrisco/pseuds/GGMoonyCrisco
Summary: Looking for an inside story, Piper finagles her way onto an urgent Brotherhood of Steel mission. She's ready to expose the organization's shadowy secrets to the Commonwealth at large, but it turns out the mission is nothing like she expected.Neither is Paladin Danse.Canon-typical violence and mayhem. Tasteful smut. Piper's incessant wisecrackery, and subjecting our good Paladin to the female gaze.
Relationships: Paladin Danse/Piper Wright
Comments: 20
Kudos: 26





	Stories From The Front

**Author's Note:**

> Please enjoy my latest entry into the small but lucrative genre of "making Danse get along with people he's surly at"-fic.

The sun rose on another beautiful Commonwealth morning. Birds chirped serenely in the trees outside. A gentle breeze carried fresh air through the open shack window, rustling her hair and chilling her skin. 

Piper opened her eyes, and instantly regretted it. 

The dawning light hit her like a hammer in the skull. She hissed vampirically, shielded her eyes, and fumbled around for a pillow to hide beneath. Instead she found her coat, carefully bundled up with some of her clothes inside. Funny, she didn’t remember putting that together last night. 

Granted, she didn’t remember much of  _ anything  _ she did last night. The hangover gave her a pretty good idea, though. 

_ Not your finest hour, Pipes. _ She groaned and rubbed her eyes with the heel of her palm.  _ You are  _ way  _ too old to be drinking like that.  _

Her mouth was drier than a ghoul’s epidermis, a foul sour tang coating her tongue. Her stomach roared empty, angry, and sick. Served her right for overdoing it on the boonie booze. To be fair, your average Commonwealth moonshine was somewhere around 200-proof on the low end, but she should have known better than to get carried away. The good people of Rogersbrook had been in a celebratory mood, and the liquor flowed like… like… ugh. Not a good time for similes. 

_ Up and at ‘em. We’ve got things to do. Like figure out what happened last night. _

The early evening was clear enough. There was a bonfire at dusk. Someone made a big ol’ stew for dinner. Then the drinks came out, and everything got fuzzier from there. There was a lot of talking. Someone brought out a guitar. There may have been dancing, but she didn’t  _ want  _ to remember if she’d been involved. Or if Danse… 

Danse-ing. Ha ha. That was a funny thought. As if he-- 

Piper blinked. She glanced at the empty mattress beside hers. The rumpled bedding. A shadow moved across the room. The Paladin’s broad, bare back was briefly visible as he slid a black tank over his head, his form-fitting orange uniform unzipped to the waist. 

_ “You know, you have… the prettiest brown eyes.”  _

She recalled her own slurred voice. Rough fingers brushing her cheek. Strong arms around her, taking her weight. And then it all went black. 

“Oh my God,” she blurted out. “We  _ didn’t _ .” 

Danse turned to look over his shoulder, extremely mild bewilderment in his expression. “No,” he said calmly. “We didn’t.”

Piper sat up with a groan, raking her fingers through her hair. “I don’t remember…” 

“That comes from being heavily intoxicated.” The Paladin turned around, tugging up his uniform to slide his thick arms into the sleeves. “I brought you to the shack and put you to bed with a bottle of water.” 

Piper looked around suspiciously, searching for evidence of the claim. There was a half-drained bottle of water beside her mattress. Her shirt, bra, and jeans were still on her. Her boots were off to the side and all her other garments were wrapped up in her makeshift pillow, apparently by Danse, which was awfully thoughtful of him. 

And she didn’t  _ remember  _ anything uncouth happening between her and Danse. Which she assumed she would, no matter how hammered she got. Because, you know. She’d _ want to.  _

“Well, uh…” Heat rose in her cheeks as she hugged her chest. “Thanks. That was really decent of you.” 

“No thanks are necessary.” Danse zipped his uniform. Was it the rosy sunrise outside, or was he a little flushed himself? “It was the right thing to do.” 

“I wouldn’t have blamed you if you left me to sleep it off in a brahmin trough.”

“That would have been rather callous. I was more referring to the fact you couldn’t--” Okay, now he was definitely turning colors over there. “Regardless of our-- anything. You were in no condition to make decisions or consent.” 

“Ee _ oh _ .” Piper winced. 

“I- pardon me, if the implication is uncomfortable, but the objectively moral course of action--” 

“Oh no, no. You’re right. I really appreciate it. It’s, ah… nice to know there’s guys who get that, out here.” 

“Affirmative,” said Danse, because he was a big stilted military man and probably didn’t know what else to say. 

The awkward silence that filled the room was officially more painful than Piper’s headache. She resisted the urge to bury her head under something to hide from it.

“Aaanyway. Sorry about that.” She reached for her coat to begin straightening out her clothes. “I don’t make a habit of getting plastered in strange settlements, honest.”

“That’s prudent,” said Danse.

“Never underestimate the power of the local bathtub hooch.” Piper rubbed her head. “This is my punishment for hubris.” 

“Indeed.” 

God, it was like talking to a robot. If she didn’t inject a bit of levity into this, she might start screaming uncontrollably. “Let’s hope I wasn’t too much trouble last night?”

“I wouldn’t…” His eyebrows indicated slight panic at the question.

“On a scale from one to ten?” She smirked. “Or at least give me a summary.” 

He dutifully began a matter-of-fact list. “You fell into a mutfruit bush. You argued with a gentleman about the rules of horseshoes for an hour. You began a group ‘Sixty Minute Man’ singalong. You crushed three empty beer cans with your forehead.”

Jesus. Why did she invite this? “Ahaha… well, sounds like a typical Friday night for Piper.”

“You also-” He stopped abruptly and glanced off to the side.

Well, that was a frightening reaction. Piper cringed. “Oh, God. Don’t tell me. There was dancing, wasn’t there?” 

“Negative,” said Danse. “You attempted to kiss me.” 

* * *

_ Knight Herrera, _

_ I apologize for the unusual nature of this missive, and for sending a courier to your private domicile in Diamond City. Ordinarily I would wait until you next report to The Prydwen, but I am aware your current orders involve assisting Proctor Ingram with her classified project. Given the sensitive nature of that work, I thought it prudent not to openly request your assistance. _

_ I am departing on the 3rd for urgent business in the north. This is an independent investigation that has not been approved by Elder Maxson or Captain Kells, but given the circumstances I do not have time to wait. I would greatly appreciate your presence and assistance in this endeavor. I cannot predict what we may be walking into, but I will feel more secure having a capable gun at my back. Particularly, a friend and trusted companion. _

_ I understand if your prior commitments preclude your accompaniment. Do not prioritize this request over anything the Proctor or the Elder has given you. If you are inclined to join me, I will meet you on the 3rd at 1200 hours at the Oberland Station settlement.  _

_ Ad Victoriam, Knight.  _

_ Paladin Danse _

Two days ago, as per his plans, Paladin Danse arrived at Oberland Station to await his protege. However, Knight Nate Herrera was not the one there to meet him with a bag all packed and ready to go. 

Piper had seen many Brotherhood soldiers since they first came stomping all over the Commonwealth a few months back. Clad head-to-toe in power armor, they looked as adamant and inhuman as a bunch of imperialistic trigger-happy robots. And none more so than the eternally surly steel colossus that was Paladin Danse. The only human-looking bit of him was the small portion of his face exposed by his hood, and it was clearly not happy to see her. Brows drawn sharply, eyes boring into her, she half-expected steam to start shooting out as he fumed at the intrepid young reporter.

“I’m  _ extremely  _ disappointed Knight Herrera informed you of this.”

“Hey, don’t be mad at him. He hasn’t been back to the city for weeks.” Piper casually examined her fingernails. “Way down south on some settlement business, last I heard.” 

“So you intercepted a private missive intended for him?” 

“I’ve been feeding his cat, and I just happened to see it slide under the door...” 

“You should be ashamed of yourself,” snapped the Paladin. “This is Brotherhood of Steel business, and it has nothing to do with you.” 

“I don’t know. From the sounds of it, you’re shorthanded and need all the help you can get.” 

“From you?” Danse asked incredulously. “An untrained civilian?” 

“Just because I didn’t trip my way through basic training doesn’t mean I can’t hold my own.” Piper smiled, she could admit a little arrogantly. “I back up Blue all the time. I’d be happy to lend you a hand, if you need one.”

“How generous.” The Paladin narrowed his eyes. “I assume there is an angle in this for you.” 

“Nah. ‘Angle’ makes it sound scummy.” Piper grinned. “I prefer the term ‘story.’” 

“Oh, I see.” He made a disgusted noise. “You want to write an article about the Brotherhood.” 

“Tit-for-tat. Sounds fair to me.” 

“Absolutely not.” Danse said stonily. “The Brotherhood of Steel is a professional military organization. We don’t need our classified information leaked out to the public by a muckraking troublemaker.”

“You don’t think the public has a right to know?” 

“Our operations are none of their business.”

“‘None of their business?’” Piper scoffed, putting her hands on her hips. “The Brotherhood flies over the Commonwealth in a damn airship, armed to the teeth, gunning for war. Now their vertibirds and soldiers are crawling all over the place, and we’re not allowed to know why? Our home is being occupied by an invading military, and it’s ‘none of our business?’” 

“This is not an occupation,” said Danse. “Our mission is peaceful, and we mean no harm to civilians. That is a promise from the lips of Elder Maxson himself.”

“And what a very sweet sentiment it is. But the people need more than promises.” Piper tapped the cover of her notebook. “They need information they can trust. They need somebody willing to get up close and personal with the Brotherhood, to see just how ‘noble--’” airquotes “--your intentions are.” 

The Paladin scowled. “Our intentions  _ are  _ noble. We are here to protect the Commonwealth, and humanity itself, from the threat of the Institute.”

“And if that’s true, then what’s the harm in spreading the news? Surely, you guys could use the good PR. Surely, Publick Occurrences can reassure our readers the Brotherhood is here to help, and didn’t chase away an honest reporter so they could continue telling lies and keeping secrets and hiding things...” 

Paladin Danse looked like he dearly wanted to shout, or perhaps rip her notebook away and tear it in half with his massive robot hands. But she could tell by the furrow of his brow that she was making progress. “This is an important mission, and I don’t have time to play your foolish games.” 

“I’m not gonna slow you down or get in your way,” Piper assured him. “I meant what I said. If you let me tag along, I’ll help you out with whatever your mission is. Heisting pre-War appliances, or whatever.”

There were a few more minutes of grumbling and stewing and fretful eyebrows before the Paladin finally threw in the towel. “Given the urgency of the mission and my lack of other options, I accept your offer.” 

“Great. You won’t regret it.” 

“But heed my warning, Piper. I will not allow the Brotherhood to be subject to a hit-piece full of libel and falsehoods.” 

“Excuse you.” Piper folded her arms. “I’m a legitimate journalist, Paladin. I’m only interested in the truth.”

“The truth,” muttered Danse, “or whatever  _ you  _ decide it ought to be.” 

* * *

Despite his agreement to let her come along, Danse was unwilling to divulge the details of the mission at hand. Piper only wished she was surprised. People reluctant to trust her were an all-too-common occurrence ever since she started the Publick one, but it was a sacrifice she’d gotten used to making for the common good. 

Trekking across the Commonwealth without a clue what she was doing, though? That was not going to fly with her. She prodded Danse several times, but he brushed off all her questions and at last, would only state the destination.

“Are you familiar with Lake Quannapowitt? We’ll be starting there and heading north.”

“How far north?” 

“I’m uncertain. It will depend on what we find on the search.”

Jeez. If she’d known they were heading so far out, she might have waited for a  _ different  _ urgent mission to enact this sneaky plan. The lake was at least a day’s walk from here, not including any inevitable troubles that might delay them. Along with however far north he wanted to go, that was two days. One way. Far more time than she anticipated hanging out with an uptight, patronizing grouch like Paladin Danse. 

And even for a one-to-two man mission, that was a lot to go through and a long way to go to kidnap a microwave, or whatever they were doing. Suspicious?  _ Suspicious _ . 

“What are we searching for?” she asked. 

“That’s classified,” said Danse. 

“Can I make a wild guess? Is it…” Piper paused for emphasis, lacing mock-dread into her voice. “ _ Technology _ ?”

He didn’t glorify that with an answer. It was entirely worth it for the unamused look he gave her, though. 

Blue had told her in brief about his escapades with the Brotherhood, most of which involved sneaking into old ruins and plucking out busted old-world gadgets. Which sounded exactly like scavving, to her, but when the Brotherhood did it it was “noble” and “in service of humanity.” So what was the big deal if Piper wrote a story about it? 

She already had a whole list of questions she was dying to ask the Paladin-- assuming he’d answer any of it. What kind of tech did the Brotherhood prioritize? Did it do any good after some fussy scribe tagged it and stuck it in a drawer? Did they consider that tech might be able to help somebody, a human being who was alive  _ now  _ and not in some nebulous future generation? Did they take into account things that could be scrapped and made into something new and useful? Or was rusted old junk  _ way  _ too scary to leave in the prying, destructive hands of the average dumb civilian?

Hmm. Maybe better go over those again. Some of them seemed a tad bit hostile. 

As usual, she had her notebook out as they walked, jotting down thoughts and ideas as they came to her. There wasn’t much to go on yet. All she had in the way of observations about Paladin Danse were the words “big” and “cranky” and a doodle of a frowny-face with intense eyebrow game. 

“What are you writing?” asked Danse. He’d stopped momentarily to do some quick navigation. 

“That’s classified,” she replied airily. 

“You should keep your eyes on the road and not on the paper in front of you.” 

Piper gave him a skeptical glare. “Did I ask for your advice?” 

He threw one right back. “Distractions can mean a death sentence out here. I don’t want you getting caught flat-footed if we’re attacked.”

“Thanks, but this isn’t my first rodeo, cowboy. If anything happens, I’ll be ready.”

It appeared to take a minute for him to parse that phrase. At last he sighed through his teeth. “Very well.” 

The wasteland being the wasteland, it wasn’t long before the road threw some excitement their way. A swarm of bloodbugs and bloatflies circled a juicy rotten radstag corpse. They quickly turned their notice to the approaching fresher, warmer prey. 

Piper fell back, though it wasn’t entirely by choice. When combat became unavoidable, the Paladin drew his rifle and stepped in front of her. His bulky metal frame was not exactly easy to aim around, so she dropped back and watched him unleash a laser reckoning on the swarm. 

Some buzzing from the side caught her attention. Another group of mutant insects, heading in out of Danse’s immediate field of vision. Piper lined up the sights on her pistol, held her breath, and squeezed the trigger. A bloatfly’s body popped in a gruesome burst of viscera. She calmly aimed for another, then another. One, two, three. 

She aimed at a fourth, the last of them, but the red flash of a laser snatched the shot out from under her. The bloodbug disintegrated into ash. Danse’s rifle stopped humming, and his armored footsteps thudded on the ground as he turned. 

“Well done,” he said. 

Piper blew the smoke out of her pistol for show. “Thanks.” 

“Three shots, three hits. You have excellent aim.” Danse sounded like a teacher offering feedback. “It was prudent to mind the flanks.” 

“I told you I could handle myself.”

“You’ll have to pardon my initial skepticism. I don’t imagine Diamond City provides many opportunities for target practice.” 

“Eh… more than you’d think.” She shrugged. “Besides, I grew up out here in the wastes. I used to pick off bloatflies with a pipe rifle for fun.” 

“I see.” Danse nodded. “It served you well, then.” 

From there, at least, the Paladin seemed convinced Piper wasn’t going to immediately die at the first appearance of a radroach. So that was nice. 

There were few further encounters along the way, but nothing she couldn’t have handled on her own. Having a big bad Brotherhood boy along for the ride was total overkill, and she didn’t even break a sweat watching him singlehandedly mow down feral dogs and the occasional mole rat. 

There were also few further conversations along the way. Most were focused on the task at hand, observations and discussions about which way to go. Danse remained reticent to talk about the specifics of the mission, growing more cagey every time she asked. 

At last, seven hours into the trip, his mumness crossed the threshold into “completely ridiculous.” 

She decided to try a different angle. Er.  _ Story _ , rather. “So what’s so urgent about this mission that you couldn’t wait for Blue to come back?” 

Danse instantly saw through it. “I told you. It’s classified.” 

Piper sighed irritably. “You know, I’m going to find out sooner or later.” 

“I suppose you will.” 

“So you may as well tell me the truth.” 

“I’d prefer not to.” 

And people called her stubborn. “Why not?” 

“For one thing, it’s not something I care to see on the front page of your tabloid.” 

Her offense at the word “tabloid” aside, that phrasing struck her as subtly odd. “What’s the matter?” she teased. “Can’t handle a little heat from the press?” 

“For another,” Danse threw her a sidelong glare, “I sincerely doubt your ability to treat the situation with the proper gravity.” 

“Hard for me to do that when I don’t know what it is.” 

“I’m quite convinced it won’t make a difference. This is clearly all a lark to you.” 

“Hey, now.” Piper scowled. “What’s with all the insulting baseless assumptions?” 

“Hardly baseless,” muttered the Paladin. “You’ve made it clear your chief interest in this endeavor is your story, not the mission.” 

“And you’ve made it clear you’re going to treat me like a parasite no matter what I say or do,” she snapped. “Believe it or not, I care about the facts. If you’d tell me the facts about your damn mission, then maybe I’d care about that, too.” 

They walked in silence for some time longer. At last, Danse spoke. “A retrieval squad was dispatched to follow a signal up north. The mission was expected to take two to three days, then they were to summon a vertibird for extraction. They never did.” 

That was not at all what Piper expected. “They’re missing?”

“Yes. Over a week.” He exhaled harshly. “Delays are unpredictable, of course, but we’re beyond what would be considered reasonable.” 

“Did they send out a search party?” 

Danse didn’t turn his gaze from the road ahead of them. “I am the search party.”

Piper frowned. “All by yourself?” 

“Unless proven otherwise, the squad has been listed ‘missing in action.’ Sending anyone after them is considered a waste of time and resources. But as Paladin, I am given the liberty to pursue objectives as I see fit.” Danse narrowed his eyes. “Suffice to say, I believe something must have happened to Knight-Sergeant Bowen’s squad. And I intend to find out what it was.” 

A twinge of guilt dug a pit in her stomach. She sassed, but in truth Danse had called it. This  _ had  _ been a lark for her, when she thought they were sieging some office building to abscond with old hard drives. Digging through dusty filing cabinets and tossing circuit boards into burlap sacks. That was the kind of tedious tech-worshipping nonsense she had in mind for her stunning inside exposé of the Brotherhood.

Lost soldiers were  _ quite  _ another matter.

It was easy to think of the Brotherhood of Steel as a monolith and all its members as arms of a monstrous whole, but the reality was far more nuanced. No matter how much power armor they wore, those soldiers were people underneath. People who had lives, and families, and thoughts, and hopes, and dreams. There was no glee in hearing people had gone missing, no matter who they were or who they worked for.

But that was the overwhelming impression she’d given so far, even in ignorance. No wonder Danse was grouchy and short with her. Piper may be bold and occasionally shameless, but she wasn’t too proud to  _ mea culpa _ when she’d come off like a major asshole. 

“You know,” she said carefully. “It looks like you and I are really after the same thing.”

“And what’s that?” 

“The truth.” 

Danse threw her a sharp look. “The lives of good men and women are more valiant a cause than your filthy yellow journalism about their disappearance.” 

“Come on,” Piper replied, attempting a diplomatic tone. “I’m not gonna to do that.”

“You’re not?” 

She scoffed. “Of course not. Contrary to some opinions, the Publick isn’t a tabloid. ‘Special Edition: Look At These Dead Soldiers’ is a little tasteless, don’t you think?” 

Danse looked aghast by the very concept, momentarily reeling as he tried to grasp what she was actually saying. “Then what do you intend to write?” 

“I can do a story on the Brotherhood without exploiting missing soldiers,” said Piper. “You can think whatever you want about me and my paper, but I’d never be so heartless. Let’s focus on finding your missing squad, for now, and I’ll worry about the story later.” 

“Well.” A bit of the hostility seemed to leach out of the Paladin’s expression and voice. “Good.” 

“I’ll even let you see it before it goes to print.” 

“And take my editorial concerns as mandates, no doubt,” he said, deadpan. 

Was that… an actual joke? She was so surprised she couldn’t help a little chuff of laughter. “I’ll  _ consider  _ them.” 

A good deal more hostility evaporated away. Danse’s expression evened out, his eyebrows briefly crinkling with something that almost fooled her into thinking he was having an emotion. 

“Thank you,” he said at last. “We all go in knowing the dangers of the job. But they didn’t sign up to become a spectacle. They deserve to have someone find out what happened.”

“Hopefully, we’ll hear it from them personally,” said Piper. “If there’s anything out there to be found, we’ll find it. And that’s a promise.” 

* * *

They were nearly at Lake Quannapowitt by sunset. The tension had lessened somewhat after their little talk, but between it and the long distance, Piper was absolutely exhausted. She was trying to figure out the best way to say so without coming off like a wimpy, soft civilian, when the Paladin made the suggestion himself.

They located a small abandoned house with most of its walls intact, a perfect camp for the night. As Danse checked the building and patrolled the perimeter, Piper got a campfire going in the wreckage of a fireplace and fired up a lantern for light. 

She was digging in her bag for some dinner when the thwomp-thwomp footsteps of power armor announced Danse’s return. “The area is secure,” he said. “The back rooms are inadequate for shelter. You may take the couch for the night.” 

“Here I was ready to arm-wrestle you for it,” said Piper. “Are you sure?” 

“I’ll be comfortable on the floor.” He closed the front door behind him. “In truth, I’ll likely be awake most of the night standing guard.” 

“Is it dangerous outside?” 

“No. It's a habit.” 

“Oh.” Piper put the lid on her trusty cast iron skillet and placed it into the fire. “Well fair warning, if you pass out on the side of the road tomorrow, I don’t think I can carry you.” 

“This isn’t my first rodeo,” he replied flatly.

There was another quip very much like a joke. Piper looked up from her satchel and turned her head to check, but Danse’s face was as straight as ever. He looked to be carefully maneuvering into a corner. He stopped, and there was a click and the hiss of hydraulics as his armor released and opened up. 

Piper recognized her immediate reaction as shock, followed by intrigue. She’d only interacted with Danse in passing when he came around with Blue, so for all she knew he was a human head driving around a power armor frame. Was he even  _ allowed  _ to take it off? Would doing so reveal all his secret robot weaknesses? Whatever the case, the prospect of seeing the man allegedly beneath the bulky steel exoskeleton felt deliciously forbidden.

As she expected, he was tall, at least a head taller than her and a few inches over Blue. Broad with a strong and muscular frame, filling out the hunter-orange flight suit that Brotherhood soldiers wore as a uniform. Paladin Danse was dense as a brick wall, and built like one too, apparently. 

Then he reached up and pulled off the hood. 

She didn’t know what she expected he looked like under there. Bald, maybe, or sporting a no-nonsense crew cut to fit his no-nonsense personality. She absolutely didn’t expect the sudden fluff. A full head of thick, black hair, lightly damp with sweat. He raked his fingers back through it and shook it loose. It made him look so much younger. Added a nice shape to his face, his beard, the contour of that square jaw. The black brought out the amber of those brown eyes, strong brows, one beguiling little scar cut through a corner and-- 

Oh, shit. He was actually kind of handsome? 

Piper couldn’t hold back a short bark of laughter, which she disguised as a cough. Jesus Christ. Who would have ever thought stuffy jerkoff Paladin Danse was a stone cold hunk under all that metal? The kind of jack-jawed beefcake they put on the covers of pre-War romance novels, the ones wearing flannel and seductively holding axes or golden retriever puppies in their big, rippling arms. 

He probably didn’t even realize he was good-looking, spending all his time in uniform, too busy licking the Brotherhood’s boots to let anybody notice. God, what a waste of a rock hard chest. A sculpted back.  _ And holy shit, look at that ass-  _

“Piper?” 

“Nuh?” She whipped her head upright. “Sorry, what?” 

Danse was standing near the fireplace, unzipping the front of his uniform. “Thank you for preparing the meal.” 

“I-”  _ Oh my God, Piper, get it together.  _ “Oh, sure, it’s no problem. Can’t, ah… really see you being much of a cook anyway. No offense.” 

The edge of his lip lifted very slightly. “I’m capable enough, actually. It’s an essential skill in deep recon.” 

“Aha. Well, uh… hopefully I’m capable enough for Brotherhood tastes.” 

“That is  _ not  _ a difficult prospect,” Danse mused.

“Then this’ll be a nice break.” Piper turned back to the skillet to make herself quit staring. “I normally have to cook for a picky 11-year-old.” 

He headed over to perform some kind of maintenance on his power armor. “You have children?” 

“Oh, hell no. My little sister, Nat.” Piper smiled. “She’s my papergirl.” 

“I see. I believe I’ve seen her on previous trips to Diamond City.” Danse looked thoughtful. “Is a child that young all right by herself?” 

“She’s perfectly responsible. I left her a pile of caps on my way out, just in case. So knowing her, she’ll be eating at Takahashi’s for every meal.” Piper took off her hat and hung it on the back of her chair. 

Temptation steered her to take another sidelong look at Danse. He was deeply focused on maintaining his armor, skilled hands adjusting bolts and testing the movement of the joints. It was still surreal to see the guy  _ beside  _ the armor-- like a strange, larval person had emerged from beneath the soldier. 

It made her curious. “What about you?” 

He looked back. “What about me?” 

“You have anybody waiting for you?” Piper quirked her lip slightly. “There a Mrs. Paladin Danse somewhere out there?” 

Danse seemed a little surprised by the question, and his tone was a little clipped when he answered. “No.” 

Well, that wasn’t surprising. “Parents? Any family back home?” 

“No.” He glanced aside at his armor. “The Brotherhood is my family.”

That wasn’t surprising either. 

Piper gave the small talk a rest for a while, since she got the distinct impression Danse was uncomfortable with it. After he finished with his armor, he moved across the room to sit at one of the intact kitchen chairs and do some work on his rifle.

She continued cooking, and most definitely was not stealing glances at him.

_ It’s nothing creepy. It’s a novelty _ , she told herself.  _ Sighting something rare and mysterious. Like Bigfoot.  _

_ And really,  _ somebody  _ should appreciate him. Making a guy like this look like that is a cruel cosmic joke.  _

She brought him a plate of fried corn and sausages when they were finished. He murmured a quiet thanks and tucked in, and Piper stretched out on the couch with her own plate and her notebook to get some writing done. 

“What’s in these sausages?” he asked.

“Hah!” Piper looked over the back of the couch. “I don’t know what they serve on that airship, soldier boy, but you ought to know better than to ask that about wastelander food.” 

He raised an eyebrow slightly. Was it a trick of the light, or was he actually smiling? “I’m intimately familiar with wastelander food. This tastes like a brahmin recipe I had back in Rivet City. I was quite fond of it.” 

_ Oh, now that’s not fair. Don’t you dare start trying to smile  _ now _ , you big dreamy bastard.  _

“Well, uh… Choice Chops, in Diamond City. Polly’s ‘road dogs.’ They keep alarmingly well in a paper bag.” 

“I may have to patronize the business, then.” 

“She’d appreciate it.” Piper glanced at him. “When did you get out to Rivet City?”

“I lived there, years ago, before I was recruited.” 

“Recruited, huh?” She chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “I had you pegged for one of those Brotherhood lifers who’s born into the fold.”

“No. I grew up in the wasteland.” 

“I never would have guessed.” 

“That’s intentional.” He paused to chew another mouthful.

Piper considered the wisdom of her next statement, but couldn’t resist holding it back. “You know, the Brotherhood would make more headway around the ’Wealth if they tried to add a little wastelander touch. You guys come off as pretty up-your-own-asses.” 

“I, ah…” Danse seemed to fluster briefly at her description. “I can’t deny that assertion.” 

“People would be less afraid of you if you tried to meet ‘em where they live,” she mused. “You know… Shaking hands and kissing babies. Brotherhood barbecues. Brotherhood beer gardens. Or a bake sale, with cookies shaped like power armor.”

And there, Danse actually laughed. “I believe there’s merit in that idea.” 

“You think so?” 

“I do.” He chuckled and shook his head. “However, though I cannot summarize the political inner workings of the Brotherhood comprehensively, suffice to say-- there would be a great deal of pushback.”

“Why’s that?”

“Many of the born Brotherhood see attempting to appeal to wastelanders as ‘degrading.’” 

“Shame,” said Piper. And then, without her permission, the line appeared in her head wholly-formed, subconsciously motivated, and worst, completely irresistible. “So, how do  _ you  _ feel about being appealing to wastelanders?” 

Danse made a very serious expression. Like, even for him. “I would never consider it degrading. There are good, honest people in the wasteland and they deserve to be treated with respect. Whether or not I’m appealing to them shouldn’t matter.” 

_ Swing and a miss, buddy… swing and a miss. _

Piper was uncertain whether she was referring to Danse or herself, there. But she did suddenly, powerfully crave a drink. 

* * *

They planned to awaken early and get a good start, but those plans were washed away with the sound of raindrops on the roof. As was most of the terrain, from the looks of it. By dawn the worst of the deluge was over, only a fine foggy mist remaining, but the ground had become a sloppy, muddy disaster. 

It was miserably slow traveling. Between the poor ground conditions and the mirelurks stirred out into the open, it took them until mid-morning to even reach the lake. From there they turned north and headed through open fields so wet and sloggy that Piper concluded they were walking through an actual swamp. 

It was at least less awkward company than the day before. Danse was still terrible at small talk, offering short or uneasy answers to most topics Piper came up with. Then she accidentally got him going for half an hour with an innocent question about power armor. All the while, she marveled at the way he made the armor look like a second skin, and reveled in the fact she knew what he looked like beneath it. 

Like… maybe reveled a bit too much, actually. She caught herself thinking about the moment Danse pulled his hood off last night. Her brain was still trying to parse how the dour metal golem beside her could undergo such a powerful transformation into-- into-- well. It reminded her of the fairy tale book she taught Nat to read with, but she’d stop and dunk her head in the swamp water before she dared to even think Danse compared with a prince. 

Maybe in the pompous department. Yeah. That was more like it. 

In the afternoon, they finally spotted civilization in the distance. A small cluster of houses circled around a massive structure with rotating turbines, some sort of sophisticated windmill. 

“Are you familiar with this settlement?” asked Danse. 

“Rogersbrook,” said Piper. “I’ve never been here, but their water traders passed through our settlement when I was younger.” 

“They trade in water?” 

“It’s what put them on the map.” Piper pointed at the windmill. “That thing’s apparently a big wind-powered purifier. Some tinkerer built it a decade ago and the settlement sprang up around it. They draw it on the labels of all their bottles.”

Danse set his expression grimly. “I believe our search begins here.” 

“Is this where the missing squad was headed?”

“The signal that began their mission was from somewhere in this area. It’s likely they passed through the settlement. Particularly upon observing that impressive purifier.”

Rogersbrook had all the hallmarks of a well-established settlement. Solid buildings, signs, watchtowers with guards. Piper noticed the glint of rifle scopes from the towers. Sizing up the visitors, no doubt, hoping to discern friend from foe before they got too close. She knew she looked innocuous enough, but it was hard telling how the average Commonwealther would react to an imposing man in power armor. 

Poorly, as it turned out. They were greeted at the gates by a small armed mob, four angry-looking settlers wielding guns, led by an older man with a double-barrel shotgun.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve showing your face.” The man with the shotgun was dark-skinned with dreadlocked hair pulled up in a filthy bandana. “I’m giving you the count of ten to turn around.”

“Whoa, whoa there!” Piper raised her hands conciliatorily. “We come in peace!” 

“The hell you do.” The man with the shotgun sneered. “Your type’s not welcome here.” 

“What type?” 

“His type.” The man gestured at Danse with the gun. 

Piper fully expected Danse to meet that hostility with a heaping helping of his own. She was quite surprised when he stayed completely calm, even with gun barrels in his face. “I beg your pardon, civilian. I’m Paladin Danse with the Brotherhood of Steel. Have you had some sort of trouble with our organization?” 

The settlers let out a cacophony of groans and cynical chuckles. The man with the shotgun chuckled loudest of all. “You Brotherhood fuckers have caused us nothing  _ but  _ trouble.”

“Please tell me about it,” said Danse. “I’d like to know.” 

The leader introduced himself as Samson McBride, none other than the founder of Rogersbrook-- the mechanic who’d built the wind-powered purifier. The settlement brought in plenty of caps and trade by bottling up the clean water and distributing it throughout the Commonwealth. Their success, naturally, attracted many travelers who wanted to follow it-- and many who wanted to know how Samson had built his magnificent machine.

“Last week, three of you Brotherhood assholes came through and started asking after my schematics.”

“Did you give it to them?” asked Piper. 

“Hell no I didn’t!” Samson scoffed. “That’s the pride and joy of Rogersbrook right there. My life’s work. My baby. People can ape and copy and try to recreate it all they want, but they’ll have to pull  _ my  _ schematics out of my cold, dead hands!”

The Brotherhood soldiers pressed him, but Samson continually declined. Instead, he’d agreed to trade them some valuable scrap for a selection of medicine and food. 

“Standard practice,” Danse clarified. “We trade fairly with civilians and always offer useful goods in exchange for their tech.” 

“Well apparently, a fair trade wasn’t good enough,” snapped Samson. “Three days later, the bastards come back and start taking potshots at my employees out by the purifier.” 

Danse’s eyes widened. “Are you certain?” 

“Of course I’m goddamn certain. They’ve been back twice since then, trying to pick off my workers. Trying to scare me into giving up my life’s work. Or maybe fixing to overrun my town and take it for themselves!” 

A deep furrow setted on Danse’s brow. “That can’t be right.” 

“Are you calling me a liar?” 

“No, sir. But the Brotherhood would never do such a thing.” 

“I know power armor when I see it, pal,” Samson shot back. “Now, unless you’re here to apologize for your asshole friends, hike your shiny metal ass the fuck out of here before I fill it full of buckshot.” 

Then Piper found the shotgun aimed vaguely in her direction. “And who are you? His caddy?” 

“Absolutely not,” she said quickly. “Piper Wright, Publick Occurrences. I’d love to talk to you and your workers about this shocking series of events.” 

She heard Danse make an incredulous noise, and somehow felt his glare boring into the back of her head. 

“Publick-- the paper out of Diamond City?” Samson asked. 

“That’s right, sir. And I’m here to reveal the truth.” Piper whipped out her notebook and pen. “If the Brotherhood has been trying to intimidate the good citizens of the Commonwealth, I think people ought to hear about it.” 

“Damn straight they should.” Samson lowered the shotgun. “I want everybody in the ‘wealth to know what scumbags they are.” 

She grinned. “Then let me tell them.” 

“ _ Piper _ !” 

She turned to Danse, and if looks could kill she’d have dropped dead. His brows were furrowed and his lip curled with disgusted anger. She threw him a significant look, then a wink. That only made his brows furrow worse. 

“Come in, come in,” said Samson. “And you go ahead and fuck off, soldier.”

“Very well,” he snapped, then turned and did so, back the way they came. 

Eesh. Maybe she’d been a little too subtle. Piper sincerely hoped Paladin “Dense” was sharp enough to read into her wink. If he stomped all the way back south without her, he'd find out how well that hood protected him from a slap upside the head.

She spent about two hours in Rogersbrook, speaking to Samson and the other workers, jotting down details in her notebook. Their stories all aligned to tell a rather damning tale. Three Brotherhood soldiers, two power armored knights and one scribe. Two days after they’d passed through, the knights came back and started shooting at the workers out near the purifier. They’d been easily identified by their Brotherhood-branded armor. Four hands had been injured, one severely, and now the whole town was on edge.

Piper had spoken to many citizens before, and she knew well when people were lying. These people weren’t. They weren’t exaggerating. There was real terror, real anxiety in their faces and their voices, fear that the Brotherhood would escalate matters. Perhaps even wipe out the settlement and everyone in it.

When she had enough, she excused herself and departed out the south gate. Hopefully, Danse hadn’t gone far.

She spotted him on a small hill a few hundred yards south of the settlement. He had set up a temporary camp and was on his knees fiddling with some device. It looked like a miniature satellite dish, faintly beeping as it scanned back and forth. 

“Ah, good. I was worried you’d be halfway back to Diamond City by now.”

Danse shot her a scowl. “I assumed you had some cockamamie scheme in mind, and did not injudiciously stab me in the back.”

“As a matter of fact, I did,” she said. “The scheming, not the stabbing.” 

“Gathering choice quotes for your hit-piece?” 

“Oh, calm down.” Piper rolled her eyes. “When people are that upset, you have to feed into it a little if you want to get anything decent out of them.”

She handed him the notebook, and explained what the settlers had witnessed. As it became more apparent she’d pulled a fast one for the sake of information, he turned his ire from Piper herself to the findings on the paper. His eyebrows furrowed deeper and deeper as the “facts” were relayed. 

“This isn’t possible,” he muttered. “They’re wrong.” 

“They’re not wrong,” Piper scolded. “They’re not lying. Those people are scared to death.” 

“Then there has to be a mistake. No Brotherhood squad would ever behave in this manner.”

Piper made a skeptical hum in the back of her throat. “I don’t know, Danse... I could believe it.” 

“Of course you’d believe it.” He glared at her. “But I don’t.” 

“Why not?” she asked. “And you’re not allowed to list some idealistic yes-sir Brotherhood dogma as evidence.” 

That remark went over poorly. Danse tossed her notebook to the ground with a thump. “Knight-Sergeant Bowen is an honorable man, under consideration for Paladin. Scribe Whelan is highly decorated and a rising star in the Order of the Quill. Knight Valdez trained under me at the Citadel. None of them would ever do something like this.” 

He grit his teeth and turned away.

“They’re good men and women. They care about helping civilians. They would never stoop to petty thuggery and intimidation. They would never throw all their ethics away for a goddamned  _ windmill _ . Those people are mistaken, or lying. It is. Not. True.”

The citizens of Rogersbrook weren’t lying. But neither was Danse. The conviction and confidence with which he spoke didn’t come from blind loyalty to the Brotherhood, or a kneejerk instinct to defend his own. 

It finally clicked. 

“They’re your friends,” said Piper softly. 

Danse didn’t answer beyond letting out a frustrated growl.

She took a deep breath and plucked her notebook off the ground, gingerly wiping some dew off the page. “I believe you.” 

He was silent. 

“I believe you. There’s more to this than meets the eye. Something strange is going on here, and we need to find out what it is.” 

Danse looked back at her, his glare finally softening. “ _ Yes _ .” 

“We need to find the truth.” Piper said resolutely. “Not just for Rogersbrook, but for your friends, too.”

He let out a slightly shaky breath. “It would be easy to take everything as given. But Bowen and his squad… they...” His fist clenched a few times as though grasping in the air for words. 

“Thank you,” he said at last. “Truly. Thank you.”

Danse was quick to turn the subject to the device. It was a signal detector, designed to pick up on electronic wavelengths and pinpoint their coordinates. The Brotherhood used long-range versions to identify locations for scouting and sweeping, such as what directed Bowen’s squad out here in the first place. This portable model was less powerful and less accurate, but if they could find what signal the squad was following it might give them a clue where they’d gone after Rogersbrook. 

Piper thumbed her chin. “Is it possible it  _ was  _ pinging the purifier?” 

“No,” said Danse. “While it is an impressive display of technological improvisation, it doesn’t give off that type of signal. Knight-Sergeant Bowen was likely intrigued by the purifier and offered to trade for the schematics incidentally.”

“So it doesn’t track they’d come back to keep hassling Rogersbrook over the purifier,” Piper reasoned. “It wasn’t even their real prize.” 

“Precisely.” 

Danse continued fiddling with the signal detector. Ordinarly, he explained, his scribe would be the one manning it, but she’d loaned it to him when he couldn’t pull her from her duties to join the mission. He knew how to work it, but wasn’t quite as adept with the intricacies of it.

Soon enough, it locked onto a signal to the northeast, roughly five miles away. 

“That must be what the Knight-Sergeant’s squad was following.” Danse held the device still as Piper sketched a rough map of its findings. “We could likely make it before sundown, if we leave now and keep a quick pace.” 

“It’s a good start,” said Piper. “Let’s get a move on.” 

They were interrupted by a terrified scream from down in Rogersbrook. 

Piper jumped to her feet. More screams sounded from the circle of houses. Gunshots echoed through the air like thunderclaps, but there was no apparent cause. 

She was just about to comment as much when Danse was off like a shot, armor thudding on the muddy ground as he raced back to town. Piper was hot on his heels. 

It wasn’t Brotherhood soldiers attacking Rogersbrook, though it was something that might interest them: robots. About ten of them, their old standard frames heavily modified with improvised parts and weaponry. A Mister Handy with extra-large buzzsaws. A Protectron sporting a laser weapon on each hand, and one in the middle of its head. Heading up the rear, a Sentrybot-- bad enough on its own, worse with a modified minigun on its arm. The settlers were screaming and running for cover in their homes as the robots fired at everything that moved. 

As they reached the square, Danse whipped out his rifle and went to town in the other sense. He made a huge, flashy target for the robots, all within sight immediately attacking him. Bullets and laserfire bounced off his armor as he rushed for cover behind a building, drawing the attackers after him. 

“Return fire!” he shouted, at anyone who would listen. “Blow them to hell!” 

The settlers peeked out of their windows and doorways, drawing out weapons to fight. They began to rally, emerging from cover to take whatever shots they could. Piper ducked around the corner of a house and got off a few shots with her rifle before she heard a shout and spotted a young man in the street, injured. 

“Hey!” she shouted to two settlers across the way. “Cover me!” 

She crouched low and raced towards the fallen man. Bullets whizzed over her head as she skidded down beside him, hoisting his arm over her shoulder to drag him to the nearest house. She entrusted him to the care of the people inside, then headed to the doorway to join in the defense. 

One by one, the modified robots fell, letting out great spurts of smoke or electrical jolts as their systems failed. At last, it seemed the tide of the fight had turned. 

There was some massive commotion from the square. Piper peered out to see Danse, who’d donned his armor helmet, singlehandedly dealing with the Sentrybot. He seemed to be holding his own-- looked a bit like something out of one of those old kaiju comic books, giant robot fights, machine vs. machine. 

Then she spotted the wave of Eyebots on the side, out of his range of vision.  _ Mind the flank.  _ She hurried forward and took a knee, lining up the shots. One, two, three, and the little robots hit the ground one after another with dull clunks. 

That’s when she heard the beeping.

“Look out!” 

Piper turned in time to catch a glimpse of the Sentrybot. It had broken away from Danse and was speeding towards her, blowing smoke, sizzling, beeping loudly as it readied its self-destruct. She didn’t have time to move. She didn’t have time to react. She barely had time to think one desperate, terrified thing--  _ Nat  _ \-- before she was knocked to the ground by a great mass of metal. 

She hit the dirt with a grunt of pain, knocking the wind out of her. Colors danced before her eyes, then an explosion shook her chest-deep. The big boom instantly set her ears ringing, and she reflexively covered her face to protect herself from the shrapnel and the heat. 

But there was none. She opened her eyes. Danse was huddled over her, shielding her from the blast with his power armor. His helmet stared at her with its cold, lifeless metal face.

“Are you all right?” Through the modulator, Danse’s voice was strained and pained. 

Piper hiccuped in a gasp tinged with a scream. Her whole body was simultaneously shaking from the adrenaline and frozen with shock. 

Danse reached up and grabbed his helmet, pulling it away and letting it drop. His expression was twisted with exertion, rivulets of blood streaming across his face from the edges of his hood. “Piper? Are you all right?” 

Seeing a human beneath the steel, hearing his voice without the mod broke whatever terrified spell she was under, and she let out a high-pitched sob. “Yeah.” She choked back tears, swallowing hard. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m- I’m fine.” 

Some of the tension released from his brow. He let out a breath. “Outstanding.”

“You’re bleeding.” Piper blurted out, almost by reflex.

“I’m all right.” Danse shifted to get off of her. He offered a hand to help her up. It took a moment for her to accept, still too stunned to think very much. On wobbling legs, she gripped his elbow to stay upright. “Steady, now.” 

“You’re bleeding.”

“Perhaps. But I’m all right,” he said again. “My power armor took the worst of the blast. Sentrybots are infamous for their ability to self-destruct after a critical system failure, and...” 

He drifted off, looking at her with sudden concern. Probably noticing how all the blood had rushed from her face. “Piper. You’re shaking. Are you all right?” 

“You’re bleeding,” she said again. “And you- you saved my life.” 

* * *

The citizens of Rogersbrook were quite a bit more cordial to Paladin Danse after his heroics. Samson immediately shook his hand and welcomed him as a guest, providing him and Piper a spare house to overnight in, a massive pile of caps, and more water than six people could have carried back south.

They declined most of the reward, but took Samson up on the overnight stay and the services of the local doctor. Piper was shaken, but only mildly scuffed up with a few cuts and bruises. Getting slammed to the ground by a power armored soldier didn’t feel great, but it felt a lot better than catching an exploding Sentrybot in the face. 

Danse’s wounds were also minor, thankfully. The blood had come from some small cuts on his scalp, caused by the force of the explosion. Otherwise, his armor had taken the punishment for him, and he proclaimed he would likely be sore for a few days as a result. 

There were a few other injuries, but no fatalities from the attack. It went without saying that without their intervention (but mostly Danse’s, thought Piper,) things would have been much, much worse. 

The mood was celebratory and relieved. The settlers worked together to whip up a communal meal, and the owner of the bar broke out some of “the good stuff” from his stash. They sat around a bonfire in the center of town, laughing and chatting and toasting to the good fortune that let them all live another day. 

Piper’s nerves were still frazzled after her near-death experience. Hardly the first she’d had, and almost definitely wouldn’t be the last. But something about it was hitting her harder than usual. How far from home she was, how quickly it happened, how she had just enough time to watch it coming at her-- or how she’d been delivered from it, maybe. Whatever the case, she was eager to shake it. 

She knocked back a few drinks to take the edge off. With a pleasant buzz on she felt calmer, though now had an excess of energy. She got up from her spot at the bonfire and took a little walk around the settlement, trying to find some equilibrium. 

Instead she found Danse in their borrowed shack, sitting at the picnic table within. He was dismantling one of the destroyed robots from earlier, an Eyebot with knives comically attached to it. Dressed down in his uniform, he had it unzipped down to his waist, exposing a black tanktop, the holotag around his neck, and the bandages on his arms and shoulders. 

“Hey,” said Piper. “You’re missing your party.” 

“I’m not much for parties. Though I’m glad they’re in the mood to have one.” 

“Well, coming out of a brush with death unscathed tends to put people in a good mood.” She sat down on the bench beside him, facing the other way. “It’s working on me, finally.” 

He nodded, though didn’t really seem to be listening. His fingers expertly pulled apart the inner workings of the Eyebot, piece by piece. 

“Find anything interesting?” asked Piper. 

“No. There’s no sign of who may have tampered with these robots.” He bit his lip thoughtfully. “No presence of one of those Mechanist holotapes. Certainly nothing that would indicate the Brotherhood’s involvement.” 

“Yeah, kitting out robots doesn’t seem like their style.” Throwing them in a burlap sack, maybe. Piper leaned back against the table, glancing up at the ceiling. “Though I don’t buy it’s just a coincidence.” 

“Me neither. Not so soon after the settlement was attacked for other reasons.” Danse set the pieces down. “Someone is targeting Rogersbrook and trying to drive off or kill the residents. And only days after a Brotherhood retrieval squad came through on their way northeast. There has to be a connection.” 

They sat in silence for several minutes. Danse still looked to be puzzling out the situation. Piper knew that because she was staring at him. 

“So, uh…” She swallowed to moisten her suddenly dry throat. “I wanted to thank you again, for saving my life.” 

“Think nothing of it,” said Danse. “It was my duty.” 

“It really wasn’t,” she said. “And neither was running in to save these people, especially after the nice warm welcome they gave you.”

“That doesn’t matter. Regardless of how they treated me, they would have been slaughtered without intervention.”

“I didn’t think the Brotherhood put themselves out for civilians if they didn’t have any tech to snatch,” Piper admitted.

It seemed he was almost getting used to her uncharitable opinions on his organization. “The Brotherhood is focused on the preservation of technology, but I view my service as much more than that.” Danse looked at her sidelong. “I’m a soldier. I took an oath to fight. The Brotherhood has given me the equipment and the skills I need to do so-- and I’m proud to protect others in their name, no matter who they are.” 

He made another of those very small, very subtle (very nice) smiles. “I would never stand by and watch you come to harm when I could do something to prevent it.” 

She didn’t know what to say for a moment. Or rather, she didn’t know how to say it. 

“Look. Danse. I’ve been…” She drifted off, brushing her hair from her face. “I’ve had some real lousy assumptions about the Brotherhood for a while. And I used those to make some lousy assumptions about you, too.” 

“I...” Danse looked away. “Don’t believe they were made without cause. We’re not always… transparent, in my opinion.”

“Well, maybe. Hell, I wanted to come along with you in the first place to prove those assumptions to myself,” she said. “But it was shitty of me. I judged you by what you were before I bothered to find out who you were. That’s not fair to anybody. So I wanted to apologize.”

He was quiet a moment before he said anything. “I believe I owe you the same apology. My opinions of you had been informed by my view of your occupation.”

“Hey, you’re definitely not the first.. Won’t be the last, either.” 

“It was an uncharitable view, though. I assumed you were in this for glory and sensation. And similarly, I’ve come to believe I was… misguided.” He folded his hands on the table in front of him. “I’m sorry for that.” 

Piper smiled. “All forgiven.”

He smiled back. A real one this time, not the little half-things he’d been showing so far (and it _ absolutely did not _ cause her heart to flutter,  _ thank you very much _ \--) “I truly appreciate your assistance in this matter. You’ve been perfectly respectful of the situation, since I informed you. And your endeavors to gather information for me today were… well. I would not be any closer to finding Bowen’s squad if it wasn’t for you.”

“Of course,” she said. “I promised to help you out. And whatever the hell else people say about me, Piper’s as good as her word.” 

Danse’s warm brown eyes suddenly looked at her in a strange way. Soft, and gentle, and… confused. For a moment, she didn’t realize why. Then she noticed her hand resting atop his on the table. 

She did her very best to pull it back in a manner that looked casual. “Well. Anyway…”

“Yes,” said Danse, apparently by reflex. 

“I, uh... “ Oh, God. _ Come on, Piper, what the hell is this? _ “You, uh… you want me to grab you a drink or something from outside?” 

He thought about it. “Yes. I… wouldn’t say no to a beer, if they have one.” 

“Sure.” She stood up, folding her hands behind her back so they wouldn’t get any more stupid ideas. “You want something to eat, too?” 

“That would be prudent.”

“You know,” she teased, “you could just come and hang out for a while.” 

Danse bit his lip. “I… suppose I could.” 

“What? Are you shy?” 

“I mentioned I wasn’t much for parties.”

“It’s your party, though.” 

“I don’t particularly like being the center of attention.” 

“Well, no worries there,” said Piper. “They won’t recognize you without your hood on.”

Danse let out a surprising little chuff of laughter. “No. I suppose they won’t.” 

“Then come on.” She grinned and allowed her stupid, treacherous hands to tug on his arm. “Let’s go. The bartender just busted out his special moonshine.” 

He looked concerned. “I think I’ll stick with beer. The average Commonwealth moonshine has an extremely high percentage of alcohol-by-volume.” 

“Oh, relax,” said Piper. “This isn’t my first rodeo. And besides, what else is all that discipline good for? 

* * *

And that was how Piper ended up ducked in a closet with her head in her hands, cursing herself under her breath when she was supposed to be getting dressed.

Getting drunk and unruly in public was one thing. That was some amateur-hour bullshit she was way too old to be pulling. Making a fool of herself was embarrassing, but she didn’t know any of these people and they’d all been pretty shitfaced too. They weren’t going to remember any of her foolishness a week from now. 

But Danse? The stickler soldier she’d traveled two days to get here with? The one she had to travel two days  _ back  _ with? The one she’d drunkenly made a pass at the night before? That was a whole new level of humiliating. 

Why in the hell was she trying to kiss Danse, anyway? 

It had to be those goddamn stupid thoughts from the night before, coming back to haunt her like a bunch of obnoxious ghosts. She had the image of him stepping out of his power armor plastered in her mind’s eye, the first glimpse of that tall, chiseled body and handsome, rugged face. Without the armor, without the hood, he looked like a completely different person, someone far more real and human than the gruff metal-clad almost-robot that was an on-duty Paladin Danse. It did not escape Piper’s notice he’d been out of his armor last night, too. 

So he was handsome. So what? Plenty of people were handsome, and Piper didn’t shamelessly throw herself at them. Especially not big, dense, stuck-up, overly-serious bootlicking squares, too married to the Brotherhood to have any human emotion. 

Ah, but there were those assumptions again. Assumptions she’d already apologized for last night. Danse was big, yes, but he was far sharper than she once gave him credit for. Shy, maybe, rather than stuck-up. Overly-serious, absolutely, but he’d been pleasant last night, off the clock. He’d smiled, even laughed once or twice, and made good on going out to mingle with the settlers. And for all the shit she gave him for his allegiance to the Brotherhood, it turned out he had a decent heart, genuine honor under all that steel. 

Not to mention he’d saved her life. In spectacular, dramatic, heroic fashion. 

That had to be it, Piper thought, as she pulled on her trenchcoat and adjusted her scarf. Alcohol couldn’t give you feelings or impulses you didn’t already have, no matter how people tried to use it as an excuse. He saved her life, at great personal risk to himself. He was handsome, and decent, and not much at all like the person she thought she would follow into the field and write a damning exposé on. Of course Piper might be feeling some kind of way about Danse after yesterday. Of course she might get carried away, given a little “liquid courage.” Of course she might have the urge to kiss him. 

Yes. When she thought about it like that, it made perfect sense. 

She was grudgingly ready to face whatever conversation Danse wanted to have about it, only to find he had nothing to say at all. He was all soldier again; clad head-to-toe in power armor, hood on, face grim and resolute. He nodded when she approached, and motioned to the northeast. 

“Let’s go. Time is of the essence.” 

Thank heavens for small mercies. 

Piper carried the signal-locator, which Danse had managed to set up in a slightly more portable format. The dish beeped and rocked back and forth, locking onto the signal as they followed it out for miles.

The walk took hours, and the signal faded in and out several times before it was finally steady. At last, they stood before the ruins of a tall industrial-looking building, with ROBCO printed on the side. (ROB, anyway. The CO had long fallen off, but the concrete was still stained with the silhouettes.) 

“Well well well,” said Piper. “This explains where somebody got all those robots.” 

“This must have been where Knight-Sergeant Bowen’s squad was headed,” murmured Danse. “We didn’t find any evidence they were stopped along the way. There has to be some clue inside.” 

The main doors were locked, but circling the building revealed a loading bay with one of the shutters slightly open. Piper slipped beneath and located the switch to raise the shutter further, allowing Danse in too. They found themselves in a massive warehouse full of cargo containers, each packed with crates of robots and their parts. 

Piper whistled at the sheer size of the place. “Looks like a goldmine for the Brotherhood.” 

Danse was about to comment when the sound of voices echoed through the warehouse. 

“Who left the bay open?”

“Wasn’t me.” 

“Well, go shut it, will you? Everybody and their dog’s going to be snooping around.” 

Danse and Piper hurried to hide alongside one of the containers. Piper held her breath as footsteps drew closer. Big, heavy, armored footsteps. 

Someone in a Brotherhood of Steel T-60 suit walked past, headed for the back bay. Beside her, Danse went rigidly still. 

There were echoes of other voices from across the warehouse, the soft staticky sound of a radio. They were clearly using this place as a base. Traveling out to Rogersbrook to test the defenses. Firing up the robots, modding them to be more effective in combat, sending them out to attack. But why would the Brotherhood do this? Why would Bowen’s squad turn on the settlers? Why wouldn’t they claim the factory, then report back like they were supposed to? 

“Is that one of them?” 

“No,” Danse whispered, so soft it was almost silent. 

“Are you sure?” 

“It can’t be. It can’t be true.” 

“Danse… That’s Brotherhood armor.” 

“Armor.” He went still again. His lips parted slightly, and his eyes narrowed. He leaned out to get another look.

Piper watched with bated breath as the armored person closed the bay doors, then turned around to head back across the warehouse. 

“That’s it.” Danse unsheathed his laser rifle and clicked off the safety. 

“What?” 

He spoke calmly, coldly, like he was giving an order. “Take them out.” Then he rushed out from between the containers and opened fire. 

There were shouts. Curses. Lasers humming and flashing overhead. Piper ducked to the left, scrambling through the maze of cargo in the direction of the scuffle, slowing as she got near the little “camp” at the far end. She peered out, catching a glimpse of Danse fighting with the armored knight. 

There were two others scrambling to arm themselves at the camp. One also wore a set of Brotherhood power armor, minus the helmet. The other wore a decisively un-military getup. Road leathers. Paint. A helmet with spikes across the top. A super-sledge hammer, which he fired up and moved to attack Danse with.

Piper took aim with her rifle and winged the guy in the leg. He screamed and went down, clutching his knee. A second shot in the back took him out. She double-checked he was either dead or getting there quickly as she hurried by, out to assist Danse if he needed it. 

He didn’t. One armored knight was down, and the other was on the ground at gunpoint. He screamed and begged for mercy, silenced by the Paladin’s bark of “ _ Where are they _ ?” 

“Who?” 

“You know who!” Danse was angry like she’d never seen him before, pure fury radiating from his sharp brown eyes, teeth grit, lips curled back in a vicious snarl. “Who are you?” 

“Calm down! Let me just-” 

“Who the hell are you, you son of a bitch?” 

“Rust Devils!” shouted the man. “We’re with the Rust Devils!” 

“Tell me what you did to them! Now!” 

The man didn’t answer. Then he couldn’t, after Danse shot him in the head. Two quick blasts with a laser, and the raider collapsed dead on the ground. 

“Rust Devils,” Piper murmured. “Raiders, in Brotherhood power armor.” 

“Co-opting our colors to disguise their disgusting intentions.” Danse growled. “To frame us for their filthy treachery.” 

“How did you know?” 

“That one.” Danse gestured back to the other dead man. “Wore a T-45 helmet. Standard-issue is T-60.” 

“Good eyes.” Piper shook her head. “I never would have noticed.” 

“Look around,” said Danse urgently. “Bowen and the others have to be here somewhere.” 

It didn’t take long to find them in one of the offices. Knight-Sergeant Bowen still wore his T-60 helmet, crushed and mangled by a super-sledge. Beneath his body lay Knight Valdez and Scribe Whelan, cleanly executed with a bullet to the back of the head. 

“Jesus,” Piper whispered. “Danse, I’m so sorry.” 

Danse didn’t answer. He knelt beside the bodies of the dead soldiers. His thick armored fingers nudged at Bowen’s chest to pluck the shiny chrome-and-blue holotags from his neck. He solemnly recovered tags from the other two as well, then stood up.

He stood there for a long time, staring, slowly closing his hand around the holotags. Then he grunted with frustration and slammed his fist against the wall. 

“ _ God damn it _ .” 

* * *

Danse set a distress signal and activated it before they left. Another squad would come secure the warehouse, he explained, and remove the deceased so their remains could be honorably cared for. 

He said little else as they made the long walk back to Rogersbrook. 

When they returned, Piper explained to Samson what happened, that the Brotherhood wasn’t responsible for the harassment or the robot attack. He wasn’t the sort of man who could admit he was wrong, but he confessed to jumping to conclusions and promised to cease any future hostilities against soldiers. By then it was late afternoon, and an approaching storm meant traveling further would be a fool’s errand. Samson was pleased to let them have the spare shack for another night. 

Danse was clearly in a foul mood, so Piper gave him plenty of space. She took the opportunity to speak again with the settlers, to ask about the purifier and the water trade. It would make a nice little feature to print in the Publick sometime. 

She could have asked about the Rust Devils, she supposed, how the settlers felt about the Robco warehouse attracting raiders, about the scheme that nearly killed them all. But she didn’t want to think about the dead soldiers anymore. 

It was raining steadily by the time she returned to the shack, clouds starting to rumble the telltale green of a radstorm. Her soggy coat, hat, and scarf were hung up to dry, and she left her boots by the door before she carefully crossed the room. 

Danse stood by the window, leaning against the sill and staring out at the storm. He was completely out of his uniform this time, in his black tank with a pair of utilitarian boxers beneath. His holotags glinted bright where they hung at his chest. 

“Hey,” said Piper.

He glanced at her briefly, then back to the window. “Good evening.” 

“Everything okay?” 

His eyes darted towards his pack and, she knew, to the other holotags inside. “It’ll have to be.” 

She came closer, idly dragging her fingers across the table. “I’m sorry about your friends.” 

“Thank you.”

“They sound like good people.” 

“They were.” 

After a moment of silence, he began to speak. Slowly at first, but a dam seemed to open up the longer he did. 

“Bowen was Paladin material, through and through. He was honest and brave and every inch a hero. He would have been promoted soon after making it back. Valdez was a crack shot. She moved quicker in armor than anyone I’ve ever seen. She used to stunt jump off The Prydwen with the other Knights. Whelan spoke four languages. He translated over 14 books since he came to the Commonwealth, and he could play the guitar. They were good soldiers. They were good people, and I-” 

He shook his head. “I failed them. I was too late.” 

“It wasn’t your fault.” Piper scolded gently. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened.” 

“No. It wasn’t. I know it wasn’t my fault, or Bowen’s, or anyone else but those goddamned raider mongrels. Those bastards got exactly what they deserved. But I can’t help being angry. I can’t help being frustrated, that they…” 

Danse sighed again. “They were all dead before I ever left The Prydwen. They were dead before I even started. They never had a chance. And there’s nothing I could have done to change it.” 

He turned from the window and met her gaze, his brown eyes full with sorrow and regret. “All of this was futile from the start. All of this was a waste.” 

Her chest tightened. 

“It wasn’t a waste,” she said vehemently. “You saved lives. You were here to protect these people when nobody else could.” 

“I couldn’t save Bowen’s squad.” 

“But you found out what happened to them. They’re not going to be marked deserters, or missing in action. They won’t be thought of as traitors who attacked civilians. They’re good soldiers, who died doing their jobs. And you were the only one willing to come all the way out here and prove it.” 

She stepped closer, shaking her head. “You saved them in the only way you could. You found the  _ truth _ . I didn’t know any of them, and I can’t speak for them, but if there’s any way they could see what you did for them? I think that’d make them pretty damn happy.” 

Danse held her gaze for a long moment. He opened and closed his lips several times, as though fumbling for something to say. At last, he closed his eyes.

“You’re right.” He raked his fingers through his dark hair. “The truth… may be all I was able to recover. But it’s important.” 

Piper smirked. “The most important thing in the world.” 

“Yes.” Danse continued rubbing the back of his head somewhat sheepishly. “And if it wasn’t for you…”

Awkward laughter bubbled up in her chest. “Oh, you don’t need to thank me.” 

“I do,” he said. “If it wasn’t for you, I may never have found them. I’d have been turned away at the gates of this town. Even if I found the warehouse, I may have wandered into an ambush and ended up a casualty as well.” 

Piper became acutely aware she was turning pink. Though who could possibly blame her? Danse was looking at her with the most intensely earnest sincerity she’d ever seen in those big brown eyes. So intense it made her heart pound faster, but she couldn’t bring herself to look away no matter how desperately she wanted to hide from it. 

“I, ah… happy to help. The truth is my… my business.” 

“And you’re an excellent businesswoman.” He smiled. Jesus, that unpracticed, careful, sweet little smile. “You kept your word and your agreement to help me. I couldn’t have done this without you.” 

It got even worse when he drew closer. Put his hand on her shoulder. A broad, warm, rough hand, strong fingers squeezing her with a gentle clutch. He leaned forward, easing the height difference, capturing her gaze even more helplessly with those goddamned soft-ass eyes of his.

“I’m-- surprised to admit it. And not certain how to explain it, but I… I find myself-- very glad you came with me.”

“Hyeh,” said Piper eloquently. 

Oh my God. She was sweating. He was so close. He was touching her and Piper realized with a mad sinking feeling that she didn’t want him to stop. But the moment was ending. He was going to pull away any second now.

Or… was he? He was still there. Still touching her. And she realized, with dawning awe, that he was unsure. Looking a bit like he just noticed himself teetering on the edge of a cliff. Unsure whether to lean forward or fall back-- unsure of which direction the drop was or how far he’d have to fall if he took it. 

_ This is crazy. There’s no way. No way he’s thinking about…  _

His fingers brushed a strand of hair back behind her ear, and Piper’s eyes slowly widened.

_ Oh, the hell with it.  _

Just as it had last night, the frenzied, impulsive part of her brain decided to kiss him. But this time, it wasn’t a mere attempt. 

Their lips met. For just a moment Danse went perfectly still, but the idea seemed to sink in and he quickly pushed back. A great swell of relief flooded through her. She cradled his face and thumped herself against his broad chest, hungrily kissing him. 

His back hit the wall behind him, and once more he was still, startled. She broke the kiss, parted her lips to ask if this was okay. Before she could get a word out, he captured them again.

It quickly became the pattern. Piper nudged and Danse froze up, only to quickly reciprocate. Each repetition, his confidence grew. Every echo, he went further. They pushed back and forth along the wall, tangled in each other, kisses deepening and growing hotter like catching flames. Soon she dragged him onto one of the mattresses, pinning him, devouring him, getting her hands full of those rock hard pecs, those powerful biceps, _ that fine, firm ass _ ...

To her delight, he turned her over and pinned her right back. 

He was strong, exquisitely so, but it was tempered by discipline, a strict line he wouldn’t cross. His touch was achingly gentle even as he held her down and kissed her hard and let his hands tentatively explore the curves of her body. Before long he was nearly shaking, stress and anger and held-in frustration crashing against his military restraint, stretched agonizingly thin but never, ever going to break without permission. 

She knew she’d have to be the one to grant it.

Piper dragged her teeth at his lip as she pulled away, panting for breath. Eyes half-lidded, she watched his face as she slid her hand beneath his tank, fingertips tracing the ridges of his abs, the coarse friction of his chest hair. “Danse.” 

His eyebrows shot up, and he sucked in a breath through his teeth. 

She couldn’t help a slightly wicked smile. “Do you want…” 

“I…” Danse opened and closed his mouth a few times. “Haven’t…” 

With her brain addled by heat and hormones, it took a moment for Piper to put it together. “Your, ah... first rodeo?” 

He exhaled, nodding. The slightest flush colored his suddenly very pale cheekbones. 

A little pearl of warmth beaded in her chest. Unsurprising, but… good grief, was it adorable. “We can stop. If you’re not…” 

“Negative.” 

She must have looked confused, because he was quick to cut in. “I mean- no.” Danse swallowed. “I’d like to… I want to...” His lips moved silently around a few nonsense syllables, and he looked at Piper as though begging her to rescue him.

“Yeah.” She pressed an impulsive kiss to his forehead. “Love to.”

“If you don’t mind-”

“Not at all.”

“I apologize. I- just-” 

“Hey.” She swept her fingers through his thick hair, misted with sweat. “It’s all right. Just don’t be afraid to talk to me, okay?” 

Danse took a deep breath, steadying his expression, He met her gaze and nodded resolutely. And he looked so gravely serious about it, she couldn’t help coaxing him into another heated kiss just to distract him. 

_ Okay, Piper. Tonight, God has given you an absurdly hot virgin the size of a yao guai. Let’s make sure we don’t scar him for life. _

His tank was stripped, along with her boots and jeans. Danse unbuttoned her shirt with such agonizing dexterity she was going nuts halfway down, guiding his hands beneath it and under her bra before he could finish. Kiss-swollen lips, his rough hands assertively pawing at her, only half out of their clothes-- the desperation was hot as hell. She slid her underwear off and kicked it aside, relishing the brush of their bare thighs. 

She pushed his back to the wall and mounted his lap, caressing his beard. Gentle as she eased him from his boxers, gentle as she took him, her voice ever-so-gentle as she checked in. It definitely served her too-- it had been a hell of a long time, and the big hot bastard was big  _ everywhere _ . But there was also something satisfying in taking her time, wonderfully curious to watch him react: breath hitching, voice breaking, cheeks darkening, eyes closing, pupils blown wide when they opened to look at her. 

Slowly, he started to rock with her. Slowly, his arms wound around her, holding her tight, fingers carding through her thoroughly mussed black hair. His holotags rattled rhythmically between them, keeping time. Lazy, tender kisses and soft moans, shared breath, all that heat and muscle entwined with her, moving perfectly with her, gliding into her. 

She slipped a hand between her legs, grinding two fingers. He nudged them aside and replaced them with his own, and she let out a ragged squeak when he found the angle. Holy shit, he was a fast learner. She held on tight and rode him desperately, whimpering soft, letting him take over as she fell steadily apart. Clutching his shoulders, moaning pretty in his ear, she came hard and went pleasantly limp. There was another helpless moan as he kissed her throat, holding her secure and shivering in his arms. 

He grew confidence quickly. He was tentative, but willing to try hard. All extremely attractive traits in an inexperienced man-- but it still caught Piper off-guard when he moved her, lifting her effortlessly. Her back pressed against the wall, and his elbows hooked beneath her knees. She groaned as he pinned her with gentle weight, pushing back inside her. 

That absurdly ripped body of his was all the more fantastic in motion, and that disciplined strength was  _ sublime _ . Piper made vocal her approval, lured him into lurid kisses, and touched him everywhere she could reach. When he moved faster he drew in closer, put his arms around her, shielded her head with his palm to keep from smacking it into the wall. All this and chivalry too?  _ Ad vic-god damn-toriam, Paladin. _

He grit his teeth and furrowed his brow. His pace quickened and his hips hitched as he neared his peak. Before he got there he courteously pulled out, spilling against her thigh with a guttural moan. His forehead came to rest against hers in the moments after, both panting and gasping to catch their breaths. His holotags bumped her chest, grazing a trail over her heart.

There was a moment of eye contact that wavered somewhere between intimate and awkward. It degenerated quickly into the latter, until Piper couldn’t hold back a pleased, ridiculous little giggle. 

Danse lowered her back to the mattress and drew away, fumbling aside for a towel. He cleaned her up and tossed it away, then scooted closer. He looked for all the world like a puppy, checking to see if he’d been a good boy. 

“At ease, soldier.” Piper laughed again and dragged him to the bed with her, partially for the warmth, partially for the reassurance. Partially because that face was cute enough to be lethal, and she was just shaky and emotional enough to succumb to it right now. 

He sighed and allowed himself to slump with her. “That was… exhilarating.” 

That vocabulary of his was, as usual, spot-on. “Yeap. That is… a word for it.”

“I was… acceptable, I hope?” 

“Oh, my God, big guy. Way better than ‘acceptable.’” 

“Good. Outstanding.” 

Piper chuckled. “The latter.” 

He had the presence of mind to throw some bedding over them, then gently drew Piper into his arms before he fell hard asleep. All the frustration and anger from earlier was gone, and all that severity in his expression was nowhere to be found. 

It was funny, Piper mused, daring to smooth her fingers through his beard. Without all that weight, underneath the steel, underneath the title, you couldn’t even tell he was a soldier.

* * *

Two days later, they stood outside the gates of Diamond City as the sun set. Piper put a period at the end of her last sentence, then closed up her notebook to tuck it in her bag. At her heels, Paladin Danse, clad head to toe in his power armor, looked as stiff and professional as ever. Minus the hood. He’d said it was making him too warm. 

“Well, ah…” Piper turned and looked up to smile at him. “Thanks for walking me home.” 

“Certainly.” He inclined his head. “It’s only polite to see you back to Diamond City safely.” 

“A bit out of your way, though.” She laced her fingers together idly. “You heading back to the airport?” 

“Yes. I’ll write a report on the incident and file it right away. The deceased’s holotags will be sent to the Citadel, where their names will be recorded in the scrolls. Their next of kin will receive their belongings and the remainder of their pay. The process will be expedient, now that we have official confirmation.” 

“That’s good. I hope it brings them some peace.” 

“As do I.” Danse sighed slightly. “I intend to write some letters of commendation for their families as well. It seems the least I can do.”

She nodded. “I hope that brings you peace, too.” 

“Y-yes.” He glanced aside quickly, but not quickly enough to hide the weak smile. “Thank you.” 

“As for me, I’d better go feed my sister something without enough sodium to pickle a brahmin. And figure out what’s going on the front page this week.” 

Danse’s eyebrows rose. “What happened to your story on the Brotherhood?” 

“Eh. Wasn’t feeling it.” She shrugged. “Didn’t get much in the way of good interviews. And just between you and me, I heard the star reporter got a little too, ah… personally involved.”

“I... see.” The Paladin’s face turned a subtle but certainly noticeable shade of pink. “Is that… bad?” 

“Oh no, not at all. Just means I’ll have to come after you for another exclusive.”

“I see,” said Danse, now about the color of a ripe tato. It was probably a little mean to tease him like that, Piper thought, before he continued. “Perhaps the next time I’m near Diamond City we could-- schedule an interview.” 

“Ohhho my God.” She nearly choked. 

By the time she’d recovered, it was too late. Danse already looked smugly pleased with himself. “It was nice working with you, Piper.”

“Yeah, definitely, you too. I’ll, ah… look forward to hearing from you.”

“As we say in the Brotherhood,” he brought his fist up to his chest. “Ad victoriam.” 

“And as we say in the business…” She returned the salute with a sly grin. “See you in the papers.” 

**Author's Note:**

> This pairing started as a Discord joke with a friend, but I'm actually kind of really into the concept? Hear me out: Piper and Danse share a lot of deep moral truths and opinions on things. They've both got good hearts, and she vehemently defends him when *that one thing* happens. Basically all of their rockier interactions come from Piper's mistrust of/Danse's diehard loyalty for the Brotherhood. Also his patronizing attitude treating her as a soft civilian, which is... well-meaning, but understandably obnoxious. As usual, if Danse gets the chance to fucking unclench around another character, there's so much potential for interesting (CUTE) interactions.
> 
> So anyway, I actually had loads of fun writing this. Stay tuned, as I may turn my hand to writing some more in this 'verse. 
> 
> The Bootycall of Steel 'verse, if you will.


End file.
